


Far and Away

by Ruth809



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dorne, F/M, Game of Thrones spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Violence, Westeros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:53:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6698149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruth809/pseuds/Ruth809
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davida Sands never aspired to be a fighter like her sisters, which marked her for their ridicule as a young girl. She found an unlikely friendship with Myrcella Baratheon and through the years, their bond grew. Years later, after the death of her father, Davida will forge another bond with Jaime Lannister as he is taken prisoner. But events will occur that will not only destroy Davida’s world, but put her life at risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far and Away

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sure most viewers can agree that the Dorne storyline was destroyed by the writers of the show. I usually write Jaime and Brienne fan fics, so this is the first time writing without my favorite couple. My only know Dorne based on the show and any mistakes are that of my own. A word of warning, for those whom have yet to see the first episode, there is a major spoiler. Don’t read this if you would rather watch the episode. All feedback is welcome, please no hate. With the exception of Davida, I own none of the other characters.

“Vivi…where are you?” Obara taunts. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…” I can envision her with her spear in her hands and hatred in her eyes. Vicious and cruel. And deadly. For I know that once I relinquish my hiding place, I am dead. Just like my father and now, my dear Uncle Doran.  
“We will find you, Davida. And when we do, you are as good as dead.” Nymeria says. “Just like your little friend.” I bite my lip, feeling the sting and tasting the blood. I am too big for my hiding place that is behind my bed. My new hiding place is the attic where I keep a stash of books. I flinch as my sisters drag my bed, cursing their bad luck.  
I think back towards my life thus far, starting from my childhood. I never wanted to be a fighter, which I protested vigorously. I have always known that my sisters were ruthless as father trained them to be excellent fighters. My sisters never dared taunt me in front of our parents, but out of their eyes, they made sure to let me know that I was different than them. And that served as a bad thing.  
Father seemed to favor me from the start. Always with my books, I recited countries and seas, stories from long ago, battles fought. Speaking of battles, I would never fight against anyone, always protecting others. I never had the courage to fight, just to read and spend time daydreaming. I might have had my father’s brains, however I lacked grace as I constantly tripped and fall, losing my balance and dropping things. I can’t count how many times I have dropped trays with food for the guests and family dinners. Mother would sigh while my sisters would snigger.  
I always wanted a playmate for myself, someone who would like me for who I was. A little girl with the prettiest green eyes and shiniest blond hair came into my life one glorious summer day. Father introduced her to us. “This is Myrcella Baratheon. She is going to be staying with us. Make sure to treat her as your own.” All three of my sister started at the newest member of our family. From the look on Obara’s face, Myrcella would be instantly rejected. Too prim and proper. Quiet and shy. And yet she moved with such beauty and grace at such a young age.  
“Do you like fighting?” Tyene inquired.  
Myrcella froze up, looking around her surroundings. “Uh…no.”  
“Then you’re too boring for us.” Obara declared.  
“Father, why does she have to live with us?” Tyene whined.  
“Is that anyway to treat someone?” Father scolded. “I expect Myrcella to be treated with kindness and respect.”  
While my sisters ran off, I introduced myself and we began to talk. I showed her around the palace grounds, told her the various plants and the entire history of Dorne. From what Myrcella told me, she was from King’s Landing, the daughter of a king. I never knew her family history, nor how she was half Baratheon and half Lannister. That never mattered to me, because on that day, I gained the sister I always wanted.  
Amidst the gardens, Myrcella and I grew close, spending hours talking, braiding each other’s hair, reading from my books, making up stories and spending time inside my hiding spot. Time passed and seasons changed, but she and I became intertwined. Meanwhile, my sisters never approved of my friendship, nor did mother, whom reminded me one day that Myrcella was a Lannister and that the Lannisters were our rivals.  
“But why, mother?” She wrinkled her nose and reminded me what they did to Elia and her children, my cousins. “They are responsible. You must be careful with the girl.”  
The hatred against the Lannister never affected my relationship with Myrcella. We were only children. Politics was useless to us.  
The day father left for King’s Landing, he entrusted me with the care of the gardens and tea making. “No other tea in Westroes is as good as yours, Vivi.” Little would I realize that it would be the last time I would see my father alive.  
My family was united in grief. Screaming and crying in my bed as Myrcella shared the tears with me. “I’m so sorry, Vivi. So sorry.”  
“It’s not your fault, Cella.” I gulped more tears down my throat. “Why should you be sorry?”  
“For being a Lannister.” She said quiet. The shame was apparent on her face. At that time, we both knew that our friendship, our sisterhood would change.  
That didn’t prevent Trystane from falling in love with her. I overheard Uncle Doran say that made a lovely couple. But that a Lannister and Martell was a dangerous combination. I had the urge to roll my eyes. Why can’t anyone live in peace, without conflict? In all honesty, I had a small crush on Trystane for as long as I could remember, despite us being family. I never did feel jealously, only joy for Myrcella.  
I was making the tea for the afternoon, when I overheard something about an invasion. “How dare that man come to Dorne? To kidnap our princess. Well, we showed him!”  
“What happened?” I asked Tyene. When she was about to speak Nymeria interrupted. “We stopped the Kingslayer from taking our princess without us knowing!”  
By Kingslayer, Nymeria was referring to Ser Jaime Lannister, Myrcella’s uncle. The one person spoken with revulsion as if he were a demon. It had been years since Myrcella saw him. Standing at the kitchen, I made a fresh pot of tea for Ser Jaime, deciding to investigate.  
He sat by the window seat, looking out through the window. His gold hand glinted under a sun beam. He had a strong and chiseled jaw line with the perfect amount of stubble. He wore a bright yellow frock that was similar to father’s. I cleared my throat, making sure not to startle him. “Ser Jaime? I brought you some tea.”  
In his green eyes, there was a vulnerability, a certain sadness, of weariness. “Thank you.” He said simply with a kind smile.  
“My name is Davida Sands. I am at your service. Whatever it is that you may need, I will be more than happy to offer.”  
“The first time I actually receive real hospitality.” Ser Jaime took a sip of the tea, smiling again. “I think I know someone else who could use your world class tea.”  
Ser Jaime’s partner in crime, Bronn, wasn’t so lucky in receiving good treatment. “You related to those Sand Snakes?”  
“I’m afraid so. My only weapon is my mind and a tea kettle.” Bronn was also delighted in the tea and cakes I snuck to him. But of course, I was intercepted by mother just when I was returning. “I don’t approve of you giving world class treatment to those two thieves.”  
“Father always said to treat everyone with respect, even enemies whom we are forced to negotiate with.”  
“I would rather cut their heads off.” Mother grumbled. Not to my surprise, Obara mocked of me serving tea to the Kingslayer. The taunts against me and Myrcella had grown as we were careful in not being seen together.  
I was more curious than repulsed to seeing Ser Jaime. “Myrcella told me a little bit about you. On how you two would play together all the time.”  
“She is like my sister. It never mattered if she is a Lannister. I honestly wish there was no war or violence…” I never dared say those words aloud. Ser Jaime nodded his head. “About your father, I’m so sorry about your loss. He was a brave man and an excellent fighter.” He spoke of my father with admiration.  
“And you were there when he was killed?” The question came across like an accusation, which I never meant.  
Ser Jaime gazed down at the tiles. “I’m afraid so…believe me I feel like an accomplice.”  
“You shouldn’t feel that way, Ser Jaime. You did nothing wrong.” In front of me was not the man I was told he was. Someone haunted by his past, his choices he made in the name of duty and family. In a way, I strangely admired him. I also knew that because of his death, Dorne was too dangerous of a place for Myrcella to stay in. I knew my mother and sisters well enough to know that they would get vengeance. I had an urge to warn Ser Jaime on that justified danger, but for some reason, I didn’t. I’m being foolish, I scolded at myself.  
“Disguising myself as a guard and trying to fight your sisters wasn’t such a good idea, huh?” Ser Jaime acknowledged.  
“No one can take down the Sand Snakes.” I smiled. “But I think it’s admirable that you came all this way to find your niece.”  
Ser Jaime looked to me with that soft gaze, just like father did. The tears were gathering in my eyes. “You’re a lovely young woman, Davida. Don’t ever change.”  
I never took into consideration that I would see the day that Myrcella and Trystane would leave Dorne together. I had the preconceived notion that the three of us would remain here as good friends. As Uncle Doran and Ser Jaime negotiated the terms of the agreement of their engagement, love gushed from Myrcella’s face. Mother was none too pleased as her own face was set in stone, her eyes bore harshly down on Uncle Doran and then at Ser Jaime.  
As Ser Jaime left, he gave me a humble smile. More tea for him. In the evening, I snuck into Myrcella’s room as she grinned while brushing her gorgeous hair. “Can you believe it? I’ll finally get to be with Tyrstane. I’m so happy.” Her joy should be mine. I quietly sat on her bed.  
“I’ve very happy for you, Cella.” My voice quivered. A tear escaped from my eye. She sat next to me, holding my hand. “Don’t be upset, Vivi. You could come visit me when you can. You can even be my maid of honor for the wedding.”  
“You were always like a sister to me. I never once cared about your last name. Or if you were a Lannister.”  
Myrcella understood what I meant as we hugged. “I love you, too.”  
I privately said my farewell to my dear sister and then to Ser Jaime. “May the gods above bless you with all the happiness in this world.”  
“Thank you, Davida. And you as well.” Ser Jaime said to me. Tyrstane gently scolded at me to swallow the tears and that it would not be the end. But some part of myself, I knew it would be the end.  
I decided to read for a while, then spend some time walking around, relieving memories of childhood. Already I felt the same emotion of grief when I found out about father’s death. An emptiness inside my chest, my bones aching, the tears threatening to spill.  
In my mother’s hand when she and my sisters returned, was a vile. It was then that I knew. Poison. Myrcella. A kiss of death. I began to shake, almost dropping the book I was holding. I couldn’t scream or cry out. There was no need to comfort myself, to rid myself of my paranoia. Poison meant death. She was probably dead by now.  
“Mother finally took care of her. Gods, I couldn’t stand her.” Obara said to Tyene. I walked past them, tears in my eyes. I dragged the bed, crawled inside my hiding space and cried without restraint.  
The days pasted slowly as I became a shadow of my former self. I faked illness when Uncle Doran noticed my expression of grief. Oh, if only he knew. I kept my mouth shut. “I know you miss him still.”  
“Always.” I whispered.  
The following day, I was carrying the tea tray back to the kitchen when a messenger came scurrying past me. I knew Uncle Doran and mother were returning from their walk, but I was in no mood for seeing anyone. “I must find Prince Doran! Where is he?” The messenger might have assumed I was the servant. Through the scroll of paper, I saw the lion’s seal. It was from Ser Jaime, I bet. About Myrcella.  
“He’s over there.” Peeking from the corner, I saw everything in fast motion. Uncle Doran’s shocked expression. The knife plunged into his chest with mother twisting it deeper. The messenger running away but was struck down by Obara’s sphere. All I saw was red. My throat expanded and let out the loudest scream as the tray came crashing to my feet. I screamed and screamed, rooted in the same place, until I stopped. And then I ran.  
And so I am in the attic, replaying these events. I dare not cry. Or breathe. Or even think. I only pray that my sisters leave. Silence fills my room. They must have tired out from searching. It doesn’t matter that I am their sister, they just want to get rid of anyone who knows of their deeds and won’t put up a fight. I remember my father’s loving words to me, our love that we shared. Would I join him with the gods? Would I die the same way that Uncle Doran did?  
No. I refuse to die. I must be brave. I must escape. It makes no difference where I run to, but I simply cannot stay here. Or anywhere in Dorne.  
I slink down from the attic, taking a last look of my room until instinct kicks in. I must run. I must escape. I suddenly remember that under my bed, I have two items that I mustn’t leave without. These were gifts from father on my last Nameday. A sharp dagger made of Valarian Steel and a medallion of the map of Westroes engraved on it. I quickly slip it on and leave.  
I break into a nervous run, slow at first, but I don’t stop. The night time is my friend as it covers me from the guards and all that I have held dear. I doubt I would never return to Dorne, unless I want to die.  
I could imagine father urging to run faster, to not look back, to not be afraid.  
To honor him and the ones that I have lose, I keep running.

 

I pat my hair as I make my way through the streets. I chopped my hair into a crooked style that mother would be horrified over. I confirmed in the merchant ship that Trystane was also killed. A sphere through his head.  
Any person from House Martell, will have their head severed with the death of their princess. It was this reason why Ser Jaime sent Trystane back to Dorne. No one needs to know who I am, especially since I’m in King’s Landing. I have a desperate urge to see Ser Jaime, to pardon myself for all that has happened.  
I make myself as small as possible once I reach an alley. I have no money or any food. I hunger for one of the cakes and a steaming cup of tea. I slink down to the ground, wrapping my arms around myself. What am I to do? How will I survive?  
But I must. Father would want me to, not on the ground feeling sorry for myself. Once I get up, I see a huge shadow. A hand covers my mouth as I am about to scream.  
“Silence.” Ser Jaime whispered. “What in the seven hells are you doing here?”  
“Ser Jaime, I apologize…” Tears dripple from my eyes as I explain to him what happened to Uncle Doran. About how I should have warned him about the poison and my instinct. “I failed you and Myrcella. I love her…so much. Please, Ser Jaime, you must know this.”  
“Yes, I do know. You had nothing to do with Myrcella’s poising. But it is dangerous of you being here.”  
“More so in Dorne. I would end up with a sphere in my belly.” I murmur. I look above me, the darkening sky with a sprinkling of stars. I feel Ser Jaime’s goldhand on my arm. “You have your father’s will. Use that to your advantage.” I just nod my head. He leans in closer and says, “Someday, you’ll take back what belongs to you. Dorne will always belong to you.”  
“Thank you, Ser Jaime.” My voice quivers with gratitude. Someday, I will return. Back to my home. But for now, I must make myself a home, a new life from far away.


End file.
